part 19

"What's the next plan, Bauji?"—Ballu asked as he settled into the back seat of the taxi.

Before responding, Dheeraj glanced at his wristwatch and noted the time—10:45 PM. He paused for a moment to think.

"We need another car…"—he finally said—"Can something be arranged?"

"It can be done," Ballu replied, "Absolutely."

"Immediately?"

"Sooner than immediately, Bauji."

"How much time will it take?"

"Just one phone call, then we go and take the car."

"From where?"

"A driver's place nearby. A friend of mine."

"Will he give the car?"

"He's gone to his village these days, so the car is just sitting there, unused."

"So, he'll give it?"

"He will," Ballu answered with confidence.

"Good. Then I'll drop you off right here," Dheeraj said, "You take your friend's car and meet me back in exactly one hour."

"Where, Bauji?"

Instead of answering, Dheeraj pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and tossed it onto Ballu's lap.

Without even looking at it, Ballu slid the slip into the top pocket of his shirt.

"Remember," Dheeraj warned, "One hour."

"Don't worry, Bauji."

"Now get out."

The taxi slowed down and came to a stop.

Ballu had just stepped out and taken a few steps forward when a tall man in a long overcoat approached the taxi door from the opposite direction.

---

"How many times have I told you not to disturb me at odd hours?"—Daren said to Neeta after having his way.

The second round of the storm had passed, and for now, peace prevailed in the king-sized bed of the apartment.

"I was missing you," Neeta said, moving closer and running her hand over his chest hair.

"One day, your reckless behavior is going to land me in serious trouble."

"Nothing will happen."

"You knew I was home."

"With your wife," Neeta changed her tone.

"Yes," Daren replied, "If I was home, then obviously, who else would I be with?"

"Saya still means more to you than I do," Neeta said, her voice turning bitter.

'Look who's talking,' Daren thought, 'the same woman who's been seeing her own lover behind my back, keeping her affair alive—no, thriving.'

Shaking off his thoughts, Daren simply said, "She is my wife."

"And what about me?"—Neeta sat up in bed, locking eyes with him—"Who am I?"

Instead of answering, Daren turned his face away.